Doldrum Fusion
by Kiru Banzai
Summary: This one's got everything: Jet/Spike slash, the Mall of Death, deliciously refreshing Diet Coke, and a mention of Jet's left arm being made entirely of metal! How can you *not* read it? C'mon! I dare ya!
1. Sailed the Ocean Blue

Jet sucked a pair of cigarettes out of the package and lit them. He took one out of his mouth and flicked it at Spike, who caught it in his toes. He'd been working out for a solid hour now. These lulls between bounties could be hell.   
  
Spike transferred the cigarette from foot to mouth without losing his balance. "Why is it we always run out of food before we run out of cigarettes?"  
  
"Beats me."  
  
"Maybe if you weren't trying 'gourmet recipes' all the time...Last time I smelled like garlic mango chutney for a week. Disgusting."  
  
"Maybe if you didn't work out five hours a day you wouldn't get so hungry."  
  
"What else am I supposed to do?" Spike arched backwards and landed a kick two inches from Jet's face. " 'Big Shot' is only on once a day."  
  
"You ever think of improving your mind?"  
  
"Yeah, maybe I could take painting lessons from the Renaissance master we keep in the vent."  
  
"Real funny."  
  
"Or I could learn to make a great garlic mango chutney."  
  
"Ohhh no. You stay *out* of the kitchen. I've seen your 'cooking.' "  
  
"I'm not that bad."  
  
"Face it, kid, you'd starve to death if I didn't feed you."   
  
Spike smiled and turned away. "That may be." He stretched one final time and headed for the door. "I'm going for a shower." He stopped in the doorway, sweat shining on his back. "You coming?" 


	2. Second Verse, Same As The First

A long silence passed between the two men. Jet was first to break it. "What?"  
  
"Jeez. Can't you take a joke?" mumbled Spike though his cigarette. He turned and walked out of the room. Traces of his smoke lingered after for a moment before being sucked into the ship's ventilation system.   
  
He'd been doing that more and more lately. It was beginning to freak Jet out.   
Jet sighed and went to water his bonsai. Maybe by the time he got back there'd be a bountyhead ready waiting for him. Or Spike, naked and glistening, fresh out of the shower.  
  
Spike shook his head violently to dislodge that particular thought. He'd think about...women. Yes. Women. It'd been, let's see...three years now since he'd last been with a woman.   
  
Jet decided not to think about that either. After all, bonsai was an art form, and required one's full concentration.   
  
After a while Spike walked by in a towel, cigarette still dangling from his lips. A bead of water formed at the tip & fell, shattering against the metal floor.   
  
"Were you trying to smoke in the shower?"  
  
"I'm hungry." Spike flicked the damp cigarette into one of the bonsai pots.   
  
"That's not an ashtray!"  
  
"I want bell peppers and beef."  
  
"We don't *have* either of those. You know, even a tiny change in the acidity of the soil can--"  
  
"I'm hungry, Jet." There was a note of desperation in his voice Jet had never heard before.  
  
Silence fell on the Bebop once more, but this time neither of them knew quite what to say. 


	3. Space Dog

Jet's chin impacted with his chest, and he started awake. He'd been dozing for who knows how long. The pot he had been watering had run over, and the watering can was empty. Jet groaned and stretched. His arm was creaking a bit. Might want to get that oiled.   
  
Jet came into the main room and found Spike asleep on the couch. He was sprawled in an uncomfortable-looking position, legs splayed, hands by his mouth. His jacket had been unbuttoned, and his tie lay in curls on the floor. Stray tangles of hair curled about his eyes. His lips were parted, and his eyelids twitched, now & then, deep in some dream.   
  
*he's such a kid,* thought Jet. All Spike's guile and pain dropped away when he slept. Jet watched him, drawn into a reverie by the even way his chest rose & fell.   
  
In that moment, Spike's eyes opened. A look of confusion passed across his face, as he saw Jet, saw him turn his face away and redden. Then he slipped into an ironic smile, that old familiar posture of his.   
  
"Catching the matinee? There's shows at 5, 7, and 11, you know."  
  
Jet looked down and crossed his arms.  
  
Spike tried again. "Hey, if you're that bored, maybe you should get a dog, huh?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Jet..."  
  
Jet turned his back and stalked off, decisively. He passed through the rooms of the ship, as if in a dream. Just keep walking. Eventually he came to the circular hallway in the center of the ship, its floor curving off into darkness. Spike was waiting for him there.  
  
"Where are you going to?"  
  
Jet turned away again, embarrassed. "I don't know."  
  
For a long time, nothing could be heard but the white-noise roar of the engine.   
  
Spike moved silently, drawing behind Jet. He reached out to caress his left bicep. Jet gasped. Spike moved his fingers lower, running his fingers along the grooves in the metal.   
  
"You can't feel this," he whispered, a little question in his voice.  
  
"I feel..." He moved to cover Spike's hand with his own. "I feel..." 


	4. 24 Hours Open

The phone rang. Spike, momentarily distracted, took his hand from Jet's arm.   
  
"Spike?"  
  
Another ring, and he was off running. Jet was not so easily put off, and stood dejectedly for a minute before joining Spike.   
  
On the screen, a sharply dressed man was dictating terms for his information. Jet recognised him as an old friend in security. He leaned over the back of the couch.  
  
"What've you got for me?"  
  
A profile popped up onscreen. "Mariana Von Seussberg. Career criminal. She was just a small fry before, but she made the mistake of stealing from the Marcusses. Now she's worth 10 million."  
  
"You know where?"  
  
"Still somewhere inside."  
  
"You can't be more specific than that? It's 40 miles long!"  
  
"Alright, alright. Someone saw her in the southmost Dillard's yesterday, but he got plugged by the Marcusses before he could call security."  
  
"Great. Thanks." He hit a key, blacking out the screen & ending the call.  
  
Spike dug in his ear with his finger. "So, where we going?"  
  
"A place where there is no law. Where good and evil are no longer separate, but both serve the will of a greater force." A dark look came over Jet's eyes as he stared into the distance. "The Mall of the Asteroid Belt." 


	5. Mallrats

Disclaimer: the "new coke, diet coke" line is from Dreams of Rio, undisputed king of the early 80's radio dramas. The number 2,059 is from Tom Strong. If you're folloing along with the soundtrack, a good place to start "24Hours Open" would be right after they enter the Mall. The next one will have slash, I promise.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
From the outside, it resembled nothing so much as a giant, glittering easter egg, bedecked in lights and logos, shimmering with advertisements and cautions not to smoke, as mall security would not hesitate to respond with deadly force. Jet left the Bebop on one of the 2,059 smaller surrounding asteroids devoted to parking, and the two bounty hunters entered the Mall.  
  
Inside, nervous crowds huddled together, keeping away from the walls where groups of youths dressed all in black, or in stylishly ripped and logo'd clothing, violated the non-smoking agreement. The muzak, engineered to produce a calming effect, created instead a menacing, controlling presence. Over the cheery din, shots could be heard.   
  
"Remember, we're parked in Lot Blue," said Jet.  
  
"This is the worst place I have ever been," replied Spike. "How many Starbucks have we passed?"  
  
"24. They have one every quarter-mile, so we'll pass another...let's see...38."  
  
Spike moaned, softly.  
  
Eventually they came to a massive black door. Jet turned to Spike. "This is the enterance to the domain of the Hot Topics."  
  
"You make it sound like some ancient cult."  
  
Jet gave him a long look. "If I don't come out within an hour, I want you to come in after me. Wait out here, and don't wander off. The mall is like a labyrinth; you won't be able to find your way back."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"I mean it, Spike. *Stay here*." He turned and went through the foreboding portal.  
  
Spike wandered off down the corridor, looking at the people. Small fry, 2000 woolongs, civilian, civilian, mobster but no bounty, moll, small fry, small fry, small fry. His stomach rumbled.   
  
Eventually he came to a grimy-looking bar. Probably the last of its chain, originally a nice place to bring your family, but now frequented by lowlifes, the scum of the earth. Just his kind of place.   
  
Spike sidled up to the bar, hands in his pockets. A bored looking teenager in a small hat was waiting at the register. "Rum and coke."  
  
"Coca-cola?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What kind?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
She rattled off a list in a nasal, robotic whine. "New coke, diet coke, vanilla coke, caffeine free coke, cherry coke, diet vanilla coke, caffeine free diet coke, caffeine free diet coke with lemon, caffeine free cherry coke, caffeine free diet cherry coke with lemon?"  
  
"Just coke. You know? Coke?"  
  
"Ohhh. Classic." She puttered off to do something not entirely decent with the soda machine. Spike leaned back against the bar and took a long drag on his cigarette, scoping out the patrons.   
  
"Hey, handsome. Buy you a drink?"  
  
Spike looked around to see a diminutive man in a red mesh shirt staring up at him.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
He repeated himself, louder. "Can I buy you a drink?"   
  
There was an unusually large percentage of men in this bar. Something along the lines of one hundred percent. Several were dancing together next to the jukebox.  
  
"Oh! No, I'm not-- I think you've made a mistake," said Spike, mentally admonishing himself to be more observant in the future.  
  
"It's you who's made a mistake." said the man.  
  
"Uh?" Spike shifted his gaze back to him.  
  
"I can show you a real good time. Better than anything you--"   
  
"Spike!" Jet grabbed Spike by the back of the collar and dragged him out of the bar. "Come on, stop wasting time! I've got us a real lead!"  
  
"Hmph," said the small man to another man at the bar. "Guess he likes the rough stuff." 


	6. Now With Plot Advancement! As Seen On TV

Jet dragged Spike to a nearby balcony overlooking the lower 27 levels of the mall and released him. "I was able to...mm, *persuade* the Hot Topics to give us a map," he said, spreading out a spotted, yellowing piece of paper on the ledge. He placed his finger on a large red dot. "We Are Here. Von Seussberg's been spotted near the south side of the mall, less than a mile from the food court, moving west. If we cut through the Macy's, we can head her off."  
  
"Shit, I should've asked him to buy me lunch," muttered Spike, rubbing the back of his neck.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Mm, never mind. Give me the map." After a brief consultation, the two bounty hunters set out through the Macy's. The humidity made everything heavier, slower, like walking through molasses. Not many people had been through here since the air conditioning had busted. The mildewing clothes loomed on all sides, racks caving in, or dripping prom dresses like Spanish moss.   
  
Cutting through what seemed like the thousandth kicky blazer with his blowtorch, Spike suddenly caught sight of a familiar face. "It's her!"   
  
The bounty hunters burst forth from the fashionable underbrush with pistols drawn, surprising their quarry into a dead run. She cut through Menswear and Maternity, almost losing them in the Petites. Finally she careened through Returns and ducked into a service elevator. Jet & Spike, hot in pursuit, dashed into the next. Both leaned against the walls, breathing hard. Spike grinned at his partner. The chase was the best part, after all.  
  
The elevator lurched suddenly and stopped, throwing all 230 pounds of Jet against Spike, dropping the two like a sack of flour.   
  
Jet found his lips no more than two inches from Spike's own. Their eyes locked. Spike shifted his hips, pressing them against Jet's growing erection. He leaned up, intent on Jet's mouth. 


	7. You Sassy Bipeds!

Spike's stomach growled then, louder than either of them had ever heard.  
  
"Um." Spike shifted. "I think we should go catch that bounty."  
  
Jet sat up, awkwardly. "Yes. The bounty."  
  
"Yes." Both stood, straightening their clothing. The elevator suddenly seemed very small.  
  
Jet wrenched open the door, and they were on their way.  
  
After an interminable chase scene, with spaceships, Spike cornered Von Seussberg on a balcony overlooking the food court. Several stories below, two dozen mall cops lunched on cheap Chinese food. Von Seussberg wavered.  
  
"Give it up, Mariana," yelled Spike over the roar of the decorative fountain. "You know you'll be caught, sooner or later. Go with me now to the police, and it'll all be over." He cocked the hammer on his gun.  
  
She looked at him, madness creeping in at the corners of her eyes. "NO ONE UPSTAGES MARY SUE!" she screamed, and pitched backward off the balcony.  
  
"Spike!" Jet cried, finally catching up with them.  
  
"I'm not losing this one," yelled Spike, and dove over the edge after her. 


	8. Payoff

"What I can't figure out is how you got the handcuffs on before she hit the fountain," said Jet, walking into the common room. The engine of the Bebop rumbled above.   
  
"All a matter of timing," replied Spike, smirking through his cigarette.   
  
"It would have been nice if so much of the reward money didn't have to go to repairing that Foley's you explosively decompressed, though."  
  
Spike took another drag on the cigarette, no longer smiling.  
  
"Still, I *was* able to pick up a little something..." Jet upended his bag, spilling small white boxes printed with red dragons.   
  
Spike's face lit up. "Curry!" He fell on the takeout voraciously, and Jet, after a moment's admiration, did the same.  
  
After a while, both sated, they sat back & enjoyed the process of their digestive enzymes for a while. Spike, recovering first, focussed on Jet's face. He stood and walked over to him, coming to rest against the couch between Jet's legs.   
  
"You've got a little rice right here," said Spike, taking Jet's jaw in his large hand and brushing the corner of his mouth with his thumb. The errant particle dealt with, Spike did not remove his hand. They stood like that a moment. The ceiling fan circled lazily overhead.   
  
Spike bent down and kissed the other side of Jet's mouth, just below the metal guard across his cheek. "And here," he whispered. He brought his knees up to straddle Jet's body on the couch, and worked his mouth lower.   
  
Jet, though not a master of comedic timing, nonetheless thought this would be the ideal time to say what he had been putting off since the elevator. Or possibly he realized he might not be able to speak if this went on much longer. "Spike, I, uh, I think we should talk."  
  
Spike was drawing his tongue along Jet's collarbone at this point. " 'Bout what?" he asked, not pausing.   
  
"Um, I think that we've been working in such close quarters for so long..." Spike unzipped Jet's vest. "...that maybe we've, you know, started imagining things that aren't there. There are stories of sailors who are alone on the sea so long that they hhhhHH--" Spike had thrust his hands up under Jet's shirt and was roughly massaging his nipples. He withdrew a moment to tear off his own tie, jacket, and shirt in quick succession, before returning to the matter at hand. "What I mean is, maybe we should get out of this ship more, meet some other people JESUS!" Spike had both hands down Jet's pants, and was working his tongue around Jet's ear. Almost involuntarily, Jet found himself wrapping his arms around Spike's waist and pulling him close.   
  
Spike responded by grasping Jet's head and forcing his chin upwards into a violent kiss. "I'm sorry," he panted. "I wasn't really listening."  
Jet grabbed Spike by the shoulders and slammed him down into the couch. Spike, suddenly helpless, marveled at this new display of aggression in his friend. He began to squirm.   
  
"Don't get the wrong idea," Jet growled. Spike stared up at him. He ever-so-gently began to massage Jet's crotch with his knee. Jet pinioned it under a tree-trunk leg. "Don't get the wrong idea," he repeated, softer.   
  
Spike, comprehending, quieted. He strained up slightly, and Jet met his mouth with a kiss. Jet removed his hands from Spike's shoulders. He sat up and removed his shirt, following with the rather more difficult matter of his pants and boots. Spike did not assist, but lay there, watching him.  
  
Finally unencumbered, Jet ran his hands down Spike's sides until he reached the top of his pants. Carefully, almost reverently, he unbuttoned Spike's fly and tugged, revealing his nakedness. Spike placed his hands on Jet's waist like a dancer, and waited.   
  
Starting at the small of Spike's back, Jet ran his hands down, across the globes of Spike's ass, behind his thighs to the back of his knees. He levered Spike's legs up until his knees met his shoulders, and pushed inside him.   
  
Spike came almost immediately. He continued rocking with the motion of Jet's hips until Jet exhaled sharply and collapsed on top of him.   
  
Spike managed to get his cigarettes and lighter from his pants pocket without technically having to move. He pulled one out with his teeth and lit it, sucking down the smoke before blowing it in a long column over Jet's shoulder. He took the cigarette from his mouth and put it to Jet's lips. Jet took a long drag on it and smiled.   
  
"After the last of the curry, we're out of food again."  
  
"Still plenty of cigarettes, though." Jet stood up. "I think I'm going for a shower."  
  
Spike smiled, the sweat glistening on his chest. "Wait for me." 


End file.
